


The Loneliest Number

by limey_limey



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Anxiety, Child Abuse, Depression, F/F, PTSD, Suicidal Ideation, Urban Gothic AU, bleak but with a hopeful ending, characters are lost but found again, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limey_limey/pseuds/limey_limey
Summary: Adora is lost and alone on the streets of a city that is not her own.  Running from the glare of Brightmoon and all that it promised her and demanded in return, she finds herself on the streets of Fright Zone.  Lost, hopeless and in a well of despair.  What else could go wrong?A shape watches the city, outcast and alone in all the world.  Waiting. Hunting. Destroying anyone who gets close to her ever again.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

Creatures walk abroad by night; in the shadows caste by stone giants they peer out, watching. Some are familiar, with names as old as time: chaser, hunter, taker. The age old drama of predator and prey played out in twelve hour shifts. Of course, the names have changed over time. New language and new ways of life making thieves out of takers, rapist of predators, the list goes on and on. The more things change the more they stay the same, such is the way of things.

Yet one pair of eyes was different, luminous in the black, shinning blue and gold like eerie beacons. At street level infinite possibilities swarmed before the hungry eyes but up here prey was harder to find. When necessity demanded or desire called it would plunge, head first, into the mire and swim amongst the other sharks. Taking only what it required.  
Things hadn’t always been this way for the aberration who sat among the spires but time had been a cruel mistress. In the passing of a handful of years, decades seemed to have passed leaving it isolated, unique, alone. The loneliness was the killer. Looking at it now you would never know that it had once held the greatest thinkers of the ages in contempt. The twitching, slathering thing bore little resemblance to any sort of academic. The chasm left behind by retreating knowledge had been filled with an inhuman craving to inflict pain, to hear the screams of the weak, to take what it desired as it had always been told it would. And it did.

+++++

Grey walls, grey door, grey ceiling, grey floor… and they wonder why I’m so depressed! The cynical thought was punctuated by a wry snort from the young woman lying, prone, on the bed. Not her bed, just a bed, like the room that she simply occupied rather than owned. That was the pattern of her life these days, bleak nothingness and crippling pain. Not physical pain, mind you, a much more cerebral sort of agony, one that comes from deep within and eats away at your soul. Depression; it sounds so benign, how are you supposed to take it seriously? That’s how it gets you; it sneaks up on you while you’re too busy to notice, slips something into your drink and takes advantage of you.

Eyes, once a vivid hue, now stared fixed and lustreless at nothing. These windows to the soul revealed a terrifying landscape of despair, wells of black leading nowhere. Like her eyes her skin had taken on a sickly pallor, the once healthy blush all but banished. It hung on her bones, tight and dry and translucent through lack of sun and food. A tragedy, then, that at nineteen a woman who only months earlier had been considered a great prospect had been brought to this.

Exhaustion suddenly filling her limbs with led; she eased clumsily under her faded sheets and turned her back to the room. Now facing the dingy wall she was surprised, not for the first time, to be reminded that the walls were not in fact grey but a faded shadow of once vibrant flowers, never wilting but fading away as surely as any bloom. Fumbling behind her she managed to extinguish the tiny lamp and plunge herself into a world of black. Closing her eyes tight against the dark, colours began to flash beneath the lids, a riot of rainbows blinking and flashing. Falling into the oblivion of sleep she tried to dredge up the memories of better times but each one left a bitter taste after its initial sweetness.

It has to get better than this, a final thought before, slumber.

+++++

“Adora Sheer?” 

Straightening the faded grey slacks that had long since seen better days, the young woman with the dead eyes stood up. Following the well dressed secretary into the personnel manager’s office she felt extremely underdressed. Here she was, in a pants she’d patched up more than once, scuffed boots, and a red jacket that she had held tight to since she was big enough to fit into the hand-me-down; expecting to get a job. Who was she trying to kid? Certainly not herself, she had long since stopped hoping, stopped dreaming, she’d run far and fast away from the expectations of friends who held too tight and expectations she didn’t believe she could meet. Today was just another exercise in futility. Only today, today it really mattered. The door opened before her, revealing the ordered confines of the office.

“Please come in, Miss Sheer, take a seat.” She felt his eyes wander over her body. Once, not too long ago, he would have been checking her out; now he was just noting her shabby attire and emaciated state.

Sitting across the desk from him, she couldn’t help but envy the ease that let him sit there with his expensive haircut and tailored suit. It had probably cost more money than she had seen in a year and the worst part, the worst part, was that he was only a very tiny fish in the company pond. She had plenty of time to study him as he leisurely looked over her resume. As minutes passed, second by agonising second made clear by the ticking of the clock, she already knew what would be said in this small room.

“Well Miss Sheer,” finally his eyes met hers and she could see the apology in their depths already. “I see that you were enrolled at Brighton College but no longer attend? And you seem to have had a lot of jobs recently; would you like to tell me a little about that?” Thunk! The first nail in her coffin.

“I’m taking a break from studying, I had a family issue which I’ve resolved now but it seemed best to start again next year. As for the job situation, well, partly it’s because I’ve moved several times since leaving college. I just found a lot of those jobs weren’t right for me.” Valiantly she tried to keep her voice even.

“So, you just quit because you didn’t like the jobs?” Thunk!

“Oh, um…” (idiot! A familiar voice whispered in her head). “I know how that sounds but I really think I’d fit in well here.” Damn, damn, damn!

“We expect a certain level of commitment from our staff here, Miss Sheer.” He glanced at her details again. “I see, you applied to both the secretarial and cleaning positions we have open and honestly the fact that you showed indecision in application is not a trait that we like to see in our employees. I don’t feel that you are suitable for either position. I suggest that you get degree and look for something more stable. Your lack of direction makes you unsuitable for the company.” He stood and she mirrored his pose. “Very sorry that we can’t help you Miss Sheer, I wish you luck elsewhere.” Holding out his hand for her to shake she did so, silently hearing a death march for her hopes.

On her way out she scooped up her threadbare grey overcoat and scuttled from the building. Once through the highly polished glass doors and onto the street she let herself lean, dejectedly, against a wall. Allowing her head to fall back onto cool brick, she watched her breath puff out in tiny white clouds. What now? With her fifth failed interview of the week she knew that her time was running out. Her say at the hostel couldn’t last much longer; they only catered for people staying a short time before getting on their feet, she’d been there almost six months. They’d already made it clear that her time was up, other people needed the room. Hiding from your life was harder than she’d ever imagined.

“What am I going to do?” A whisper lost in the cool breeze. She’d known, without doubt, that she wouldn’t get this job. The place was well out of her league but it was just about the only thing she hadn’t already applied for. She’d been rejected from fast-food chains, cleaning jobs, waitressing; even car washing and she had been fired from her last three jobs only days after starting because of her despondent attitude.

Gathering her coat more tightly around her she fumbled to fasten the few remaining buttons against the cold. Not that it did much good, the old piece of apparel was so thin in places that it did little to block out the chill. Ducking her head in a vain attempt to shield her face from the biting wind, her blond ponytail coming lose, hair whipped into her eyes, she ignored it and moved on. The only good thing about this failed interview was that it was so close to her dwelling. Even in her thoughts she couldn’t call it home.

Finally reaching the cheery red door of the hostel she fumbled with the key to get in. The welcoming façade of the building was mirrored by its interior. It was shabby, certainly, with the government giving it so little funding but it was clean and homey. The rooms were much the same, wallpaper faded, carpets worn and furniture sagging but still liveable, a far cry from the apartment she’d shared with her best friends less than a year ago. Not unusually, the place was quiet at 3pm, most of the occupants out doing the same thing she had, job hunting.

Moving steadily towards the stairs that lead to the second floor and her room, she was curious on hearing voices and the odd thud of small objects hitting the carpet. Rounding the corner onto the landing her breath caught at the sight before her. There, on the floor, lay her meagre possessions being thrust into an old gym bag by one of the buildings volunteers. Another volunteer walked out of the open door with the last of her things in hand.

“Hey!” Her sharp cry brought both heads up and looking in her direction. 

“What’s going on?” Inside she already knew.

“Adora, we’re really sorry but you have to go. We told you last month that this was coming and we just can’t keep you here any longer,” the woman looked genuinely apologetic.

“I understand. You’ve kept me here longer than you should have but why are you clearing out my stuff like this?” Hurt crept into her voice; this touched a nerve rooted deep in her childhood of possessions tossed into garbage bags and being moved on.

“It’s not a reflection on you, we have a girl arriving in around an hour who needs this room and we didn’t know when you’d be back.” As they spoke Adora had walked closer. The tall lanky man held out the bag and gave it to the teen. “Sorry kid. Did you get that job?” His mellow baritone was hopeful.

“Yes I did.” Why make them feel worse? (‘still a people pleaser’, echoed that voice) She watched as their eyes lit up and they smiled in congratulations. “Can I go in and just check I’ve got everything?”

“Of course you can. Come downstairs when you’re done and we’ll have dinner ready for you.” The husband and wife team moved past her, giving her a quick hug before moving to the kitchen.

Hefting the overstuffed bag she walked into the dingy room, closing the door softly behind her. Placing it on the freshly made bed she pulled her things out until they littered the white surface. Quickly folding the her clothes she put some into the vinyl bag before pulling out a plastic shopping bag and stuffing the rest inside. She was almost done.

Standing only in her underwear she reached for a small clear bag containing several pill bottles. Moving to a sink in the corner of the room, she popped open a contained and took two capsules before positioning her mouth below the faucet and turning on the water to chase it down. Straightening she wiped the water from her face and took a look at the reflection in the mirror above it. Her blue eyes were dull, surrounded by dark shadows that betrayed her tiredness and cheeks sunken by hunger. Her body also betrayed the same lack of nutrition and care. Hair that had once been lustrous and golden, pulled up in a tidy tail, now looked frizzy and unkempt. Taking a deep breath, stuffing her medication away, she slung one bag over her shoulders and grasped the other in hand as she left the room.

Quietly she padded down the stairs, careful to avoid the kitchen. She couldn’t take the forced good humour of saying goodbye and living up to her lie. Putting her key on the hook by the door she took a quick look at the clock mounted on the wall; 3.45pm and everything had changed. Who knew that 45 minutes could change your life? Opening and closing the front door as softly as possible she made her way into an uncertain future.   
Walking along the street she was at a loss, what could she do now? Darkness was falling rapidly, stormy looking clouds blowing in to caste the world in gloom, reflecting her emotional state. She trudged the street for over an hour with no sense of direction or purpose until, finally, she ended up at the bus shelter. Reaching into her pocket she came up with a handful of coins. Her entire fortune in her palm; just enough for a ride…Suddenly she knew where to go and what to do.

Heading to the shelter, she settled between a rather smelly old man and another teenaged girl. Waiting patiently as bus after bus came and went, taking her two seat mates with them, she was rewarded when her bus came at last. Thankful that the rain had yet to fall, she walked to the long silver box and stepped inside, beginning the short journey to her future.


	2. Rain

Tonight it just watched, perched precariously above the streets, tucked into a dark alcove; out of sight from those looking up she was safe. Scanning across the deserted streets it realised that tonight nobody was out to look up, and took the time to study its hunting grounds. This area of the city was a slum, buildings crumbled all around while prostitutes prowled the streets, stopping the ‘nice’ cars that passed through.

The men in those cars could regenerate this neighbourhood but they only came to cruise. They indulged their guilty pleasures before returning to the comfort of their lives. More often than not these men were prey to the violent elements of this society. More than one of the trophies and trinkets in the dual eyed observer’s home came from them. Their cars were taken by other factions; much like an African savannah, the hunters killed the prey but the scavengers cleaned up after it.

Vagrants who usually slept in doorways had managed to creep inside empty buildings tonight, giving in to the chill. Rats took up residence with families this time of year, families whose problems were far bigger than their rodent houseguests or some spectral figure that killed at night. Families like those she had once been a part of. Even the police seldom ventured here, unconcerned by the problems in these lives. She almost wished a police car would go past tonight, the stillness was mind numbing.

Directly opposite her building was the bus stop, with its broken glass and graffiti. Her eyes returned again and again to the skeletal structure; looking for what, it couldn’t be sure. When eventually a long silver bus did draw up to the curb and begin to idle there, those luminous eyes could not look away. Frigid as the air was, the sky pregnant with rain and the street still as death, the behemoth broke the monotony. One, lone passenger disembarked, feet hitting the sidewalk in tandem with the opening of the sky.

Drowned by the deluge the grey figure trudged dejectedly forward. Clasped in each hand, seemingly weighing down slumped shoulders, were battered bags, heaving at the seams. Step after soggy step it moved on. The…person, for the watcher could make out no detail of gender through the curtain of water, seemed to be fast approaching its location. What would they do? Fascinated by the slow moving figure, it felt no desire to hurt this person, just to observe. A cat staring at a mouse.

+++++

Hair plastered to her skull, water beading from her ponytail down her neck, she shuddered violently as water oozed its into her clothes. Old and worn, her coat did little to protect her from the elements, leaving her feeling sodden and heavy. When she had started her journey to this place she hadn’t been entirely certain of her own plans. She had only ever passed through this derelict block on her way elsewhere but the towering building at its centre had always called to her. Today was no different; she felt a pull towards the old deco building that, from its size, had once been a hotel. A dilapidated sign read ‘First Ones’ or something close, she couldn’t quite make it out. Positioned opposite the bus shelter, it had been the first thing she saw before the rain came in.

Getting closer and closer, vision made blurry by the pounding storm, her plan crystallised. All she needed now was a little luck and an opening big enough to climb through. For the first time in months, maybe even years, it seemed like Lady Luck was listening and with only a little fumbling she managed to pry away wood that covered a window. Easing through the small opening she pulled her bag in after her. The vinyl of the gym bag made it through but the plastic bag caught on a nail and split, spilling clothes onto the wet sidewalk. Unwilling to venture back outside for them she let the wood fall back into place and turned to the darkened interior of the building.

Fire had obviously torn through the place at some stage, whether before or after it had been abandoned Adora couldn’t tell. The still acrid smell of smoke and mould clung to the air, making her sneeze. Carefully navigating her way around the sparse, charred furniture that filled the gloomy lobby she made a beeline for the staircase that she could just make out on the far wall. The stairs had two branches, the left side nothing more than twisted and warped pieces of metal and wood, the right appeared secure. Night would take hold soon, plunging the bowels of the building into total darkness and she needed to get as far as she could while some weak, grey light still seeped inside.

Slinging the bag back over her shoulder she resolutely set her foot against the stair and moved swiftly up. Reaching the first level with no painful problems, she rushed to find the main stairwell, almost falling through a gaping hole in the floor. Heart hammering she realised that she wouldn’t have noticed the gaping aperture had it been any darker. Did it really matter if she fell through a whole, with what she had planned? Yes; for a change she would control her destiny rather than have it control her. 

Carefully edging around the hole she found the door to the access stairway, pleased to find it filthy but untouched by the fire. Squaring her shoulders she stepped forward into the near total darkness and took hold of the guide rail, readying to climb the ten floors to the top. Hand clutching the rail, she started her dark journey into the unknown. Walking calmly to her fate she took each stair with purpose.

After what felt like an hour in the darkness, but was in reality probably only a third of that, she almost walked straight into the heavy door leading to the roof. Feeling her way towards the handle she fell forward as the door gave under her weight. Thrust back out into the storm, she barely felt it this time. Distractedly she dropped her bag to the floor, unconcerned when it landed in a puddle, her mind was elsewhere. Up here it was much brighter than inside, backwash from the streetlights below gave everything a strange yellow tinge while the moon and stars, still barely visible, lent a creamy edge to things. 

Finding herself suddenly standing between two of the huge gargoyles that decorated the side of the building, looking very much out of place, she drew in a fortifying breath. ‘Don’t look down! Don’t look down! Don’t look down!’ It became a fortifying mantra as she stared at the skyline. One slender hand came to rest on the gigantic head of one of the stone beasts, steadying her as she stepped up onto the ledge.

++++++++

In the shadowed recess beneath the gargoyle’s chin, it sat deadly still wondering what the woman breathing hard above it would do. It had seen her enter the building. Watched as clothes spilled out onto the cement like a fabric rainbow, then lost track of her progress (it now knew the visitor was a woman as the footfalls had been too light for a man) until she stumbled onto the roof. Now the woman stood only inches away… What was she doing?

Almost as if to answer the hidden individual’s silent question, Adora drew in a breath and threw her arms open wide. She leapt into oblivion…  
Only to be stopped almost as soon as her feet left the wall. Something strong held tightly to the back of her coat, holding her suspended parallel to the ground. Staring down at the street far below she felt the adrenaline seep out of her blood, replaced by fear as se realised just how far it was. Beginning to panic and hyperventilate she turned her head, searching frantically for whoever, or whatever held her so still. Turning to her right she came face to face with a gargoyle!

“You should be more careful.” Growled more than spoken, they were the last thing Adora heard before she lost consciousness.


	3. Cans need can openers

Studying the young woman lying on the nest of cushions, sheets and old mattresses, she found herself fascinated. Somewhere at the back of her mind a memory stirred from a time when she knew people. Something achingly familiar, a memory she could not reach. Loath to take her eyes off the slumbering girl, she quickly shut them, shuffling through the jumble of images in her mind. They flashed through her minds eye faster and faster, sometimes the girl spectre was very small, others coltish and clumsy but only a blur, a fleeting notion and then nothing. Nothing tangible. Grating out a breath she angrily shook her head, memories were pain. Pain was weakness. She was not weak! Opening heterochromatic eyes she chose instead to look at the woman, study her. Not wonder why she had saved her from a fate far safer than this. 

Having carried the unconscious woman down from the roof to her nest she knew that she was malnourished. She was taller than her rescuer with broader shoulders and bigger hands but she weighed almost nothing. Her flesh clung to the bones of her face and her eyes were sunken in dark pits. Knowing that the young blonde would need to be fed when she woke, her observer took one last look at the peaceful face before stalking out of the room. The girl couldn’t possibly eat anything in the building, which meant a scavenging expedition. Flying through the building with incredible speed and grace, leaping over the gaping holes made long ago by fire, she was soon in the foyer. Then out into the night.

Glad for the cover provided by the pounding rain and the dark, she moved like a shadow across the deserted street. Taking a fleeting look around, she ducked around the dilapidated convenience store. Reaching the back entrance, she grasped the simple padlock that held the door closed and slashed it off with her claws. Yanking the door open, certain that there would be no alarm to worry about, she padded inside.

Bare feet slapped on the grubby linoleum, leaving wet footprints as she moved through the box lined storage area and out onto the floor. Shielded by the shutters that had been hastily drawn down by the shop keeper, she could move around the aisles without worry; there were certainly no cameras to catch her. Moving quickly through the shop she found a can opener and stuffed it in her pocket. 

Now what? Unsure what the girl would eat, what any normal person would eat, she moved down the closest row and quickly realised that cans with a dog on them were probably out. Seeing something she recognised on the far wall she lunged and grasped a loaf of bread. Pacing around to the cash register she snagged a paper sack and stuffed the bread inside. Snatching a few cans and packets that had fairly attractive pictures of, she supposed, food on them and a huge canister of water the shadow slunk back to the exit. 

Passing the register for the second time, a slender yet strong hand ripped open the drawer and stuffed all of the bills into the pocket with the can opener. Not seeing a safe, the journey continued to the door and back out into the night. Hoping that the young women had not woken up and run away, though she wasn’t sure why, the shadow dashed back where she had come from.

+++++

Oh God, where am I? Dazed blue eyes fluttered open and tried to focus. Her attempts were thwarted by the absolute lack of light in the room, not one sliver penetrated the gloom. Knowing that for the moment she wasn’t going anywhere, the darkness and sick throbbing of her stomach holding her prisoner, she tried to gain as much information as she could while sitting almost perfectly still.

Tentatively she reached out, feeling the softness that surrounded her. Even with head pounding and fear pulsing in her veins, she could easily identify the yielding surface beneath her as a mattress; what she wasn’t so sure about was what covered it, and her. Fingers gliding across each new texture, she was able to make out sued, corduroy, silk and… fur? The luxurious nature of the fabrics contrasted rudely with the pungent odour of dust and damp that pervaded the room. ‘It’s almost like I’m in a nest’, the thought was almost laughable, had it not felt so plausible.

“Ok, Adora, I think you can safely say that you’re not dead.” Not entirely sure whether that was a good thing or not, she did at least feel the pain in her head start to recede. “I must have come in here and passed out. All that stuff on the roof was just a dream,” sitting up further she felt the covers fall to her waist but her mind was too busy to recognise the sudden chill. “No way was that real, Adora, just a dream after a really bad day… just a bad… I’m naked!” Hurriedly pulling the covers back over her chilled body, reality came crashing down on her.

Falling heavily back, surrounded by the strange, musky scent, she threw an arm across her eyes. ‘Oh, God! How did this happen?’ For the first time in her life she hoped she’d been slipped something in a drink and that this was a cheap motel, some act of sexual deviance leaving her naked and confused. It was preferable to the alternative; that a… ghost, some ghoul, had hauled her into its lair, taken her clothes and imprisoned her.

Feeling tears of frustration and fear forming, she refused to let them fall. Breathing deeply in an effort to keep the tears at bay, she tried to ignore the disconcertingly sensual feel of fur moving across her naked breast as she sat up straighter. Knowing that her only way out of this situation lay in getting off the mattress, she gathered one of the sheets and wound it tightly around her body. As prepared as she could be under the circumstances she swung her legs over the edge; touching the floor with a tentative toe, she quickly jerked it back as pain lanced through the limb.

Once again ensconced in the relative safety of the bed, she reached down and ran a cautious finger across her toes. Her left big toe seemed the worst affected, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She could feel the warm stickiness of blood as she drew her hand away and thoughtlessly wiped it onto the fabric around her. Refusing to give into the overwhelming sense of defeat that wanted to wash over her, she steeled herself to try again.

Adora reached out a tentative hand and felt around the bed. She was surprised when her hand made contact with the wall along the left side of the bed. Following the wall she found that the head of the bed was also pushed against the wall. Not sure what that meant but quite certain that the room must be small if the bed was wedged into a corner, she found new resolve to get out. Backing into the corner, safely ensconced in the covers she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. So intent was she in making out something in the darkness that she failed to notice the near inaudible sound of somebody entering the neighbouring room.

Soft light suddenly blazed to life in the doorway, the weak light of a candle revealing the aperture. Startled, the confused young woman pushed herself even further into the corner with near bruising force. There stood the ghost from the roof, wreathed in golden light, face partially shadowed. Forcing herself to take in the figure in the doorway, Adora was surprised that the other person in the room was very obviously waiting and making no attempt to move further than the doorway. Uncurling fractionally, the young woman found her voice.

“How…” In an effort to get her voice under control she paused, desperate to appear as undaunted as possible in front of this menacing presence. Then plaintive and confused, “Catra?”


	4. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back in order to move forward.

11 years ago

Standing in front of the towering, ominous building, she clutched the trash bag close to her chest and shivered. The social worker at her side laid, what was supposed to be, a comforting hand on her thin shoulder as they move towards the door. Adora didn’t want to cry, but she felt the tears welling in her eyes. This wasn’t a home, there weren’t going to be any wanna be moms and dads here. No pretence of a family. It wasn’t even a group home. She’d proved that she couldn’t be trusted there. This was her last chance. 

She wanted to be good.

The doors whooshed open into a cavernous reception area, brightly lit and dazzling. Dozens of men and women moved around the space, each decked out in identical white uniforms. The place was cold, sterile and it made the little girl’s skin crawl. The hand on her shoulder propelled her forward as they made their way to the reception desk, feet echoing hollowly in the mostly empty space.

“Good morning,” why was his voice so chipper? Didn’t he know how scared she was? “I’m bringing little Adora here for her induction? I’m sure you’re expecting us. Adora Grey for Dr Weaver.” He smiled winningly at the thick necked man on reception.

Fingers tapped at the keys of his computer as he searched out her name, “Yes, Dr Weaver is expecting you.” Suddenly two white clad men were by the desk, as if from nowhere, faces blank. “They will escort you back, Adora.”

“I should really take her back and make sure she’s settled in,’ spluttered the social worker.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, no unauthorised personal beyond this point. Thank you so much for bringing her in, we will keep you advised of her progress.” And he was summarily dismissed by the staff.

Adora wanted to reach out, to grasp hold of the sleeve of the retreating man, wanted to cry, stomp her feet and beg for a family and not this. But she didn’t. She’d already tried family and it had ended….badly. She had to be here, they were going to help her grow up and have a normal life, so she wouldn’t hurt anybody again. So she could be a good girl. She jumped as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

“Come with us little sister,” she wasn’t sure which man had spoken but she nodded mutely and followed one while the other walked behind her.

The they headed towards a small, dark door tucked away in a far corner, far from view of the entrance. The man in front pushed it aside and they stepped into darkness.

+++++++++++

The youth rehabilitation unit of Velvet Glove Inc was The Zone, it was dark, dingy and felt a little grimy; nothing like the building’s entrance had led her to believe. Set deep within the walls of the monolithic building, it was a windowless area illuminated by harsh fluorescent light where prying eyes could not see. Adora felt very small and very alone.

As they advanced further into the heart of the building she felt herself starting to lose her sense of time and place. Each twist and turn took her further away from any idea of how to get out; to get away. She always knew how to get away! Lost in her own brewing panic, she walked straight into the back of her guide and found herself sprawled on the floor, her bag of meagre possessions skidding down the corridor. A large hand reached down and lifted her effortlessly back to her feet without a word. As she scurried to retrieve her things, that same hand firmly grasped her shoulder and held her still. She froze, trembling in place. This kind of touch was familiar.

“Dr Weaver is waiting for you,” the cold voice chilled her more than the touch, as the man in front of her opened the steel door ahead and the man grasping her shoulder from behind thrust her forward. She stumbled in, eyes locking onto the dark figure perched behind a desk with hawk-like eyes fixed on her, and burst into tears.

++++++++

After she finished crying Dr Weaver had laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder and told her that everything would be fine. Her words were almost hypnotic, voice slightly muffled by the mask that covered all but her eyes. A precaution, she had said, to protect her from accidental exposure to the children. Adora believed her. She seemed so kind. She had appraised the child in front of her and, for the first time, Adora had felt seen. Recognised as somebody with value, who could contribute and not be a danger or a burden. She had even gently cupped her cheek and raised blue eyes to meet almost black, wiping tears delicately with a tissue. They would talk more but Dr Weaver had decided to escort her to her room.

Alone now she sat on her bed and felt lost. She swung her thin legs back and forth as she looked around the room. There was little to see, the walls and ceiling an institutional grey, a simple metal desk and chair in one corner, a single set of drawers and the bed. A door in the opposite corner led to a small bathroom with a shower, basin and toilet all made from cold steel. There was no decoration other than the plain white sheets and brown blanket that covered the bed. Some children would have been horrified. Some would have missed their pretty pink wallpaper and princess sheets. Some would have longed for toys and trinkets to be strewn around. Adora was not some children; she was simply delighted to have such a large, clean space all to herself. If they fed her regularly this would be paradise. She could live without seeing the outside world for a little while. All her fears of the morning seem to have been for nothing.

Hopping off of the bed, the inquisitive child wandered over to the drawers and desk. They sat next to each other, blending into the colours of the walls, holding secrets that she was about to discover. First she pulled out the single drawer in the desk. Nestled inside were several spiral notebooks embossed with her name and a box of brand new pencils. Rooting around in the drawer she retrieved an eraser, sharpener and a couple of simple pens. It was a treasure trove! Her school supplies were always what was left over or what was cheapest at the grocery store. These were new things just for her. She pulled out a notebook and clutched it to her chest, like a plushy, enjoying the crisp smell of the paper. 

Excited now, big blue eyes travelled to the next draw, reverently putting the pad back and moving to the next discovery. Opening the top drawer, she found neatly folded underwear and socks; ten pairs of each. All white. All clean. All new. With delight she opened the next and found clean white shirts , and below them grey pants. Finally in the last she found leather belts and a pair of boots in her size. 

Letting out a squeal of delight, she stripped out of her worn, too small clothes and balled them up. Standing naked in the middle of the room, holding the balled up clothes she realised that there was nowhere for her to throw them, no trash basket or laundry hamper. Shrugging, too excited to worry about making a mess in the pristine space (she would obsess about it later) she flung them into the corner and dashed into the bathroom, skidding to a stop and throwing herself in the shower. Ten minutes later, pink cheeked and squeaky clean, she pulled a long sleeved white t-shirt over her head and boots onto her feet. 

Now Adora was fidgety. Riled up and ready to move. All the families she had moved in and out of had hated that about her, her inability to sit still and do nothing. Her lack of quiet. Was it nearly lunch time? Was she allowed to leave the room by herself? Before she had to answer either of those questions for herself, the door creaked open and a new masked figure stepped in.

“Hello Adora, please come with me.” The voice was female and the eyes that looked through the mask were a soft blue. “We just need to run a few health checks and then you can go for lunch and meet the others.” She extended her hand and the little girl took it without reservation.

As they began their journey down west more winding corridor’s, the woman turned to look at the child at her side, “I see you found your things. I’m very proud of you for cleaning yourself up. You look very smart.” Adora bloomed under the praise, walking taller and holding the adults hand just a little tighter. “I think you’re going to do very well here.”

Dr Weaver had said similar things in their brief meeting and Adora had never heard so many grown ups say so many nice things to her before. By the time they entered the small clinic, where test another masked person sat, Adora was feeling like this place was really where she was meant to be. The new person sat by a table with a chair drawn out and beckoned her to sit. Her guide crinkled her eyes in a smile and encouraged the little blond to sit before going to lean against the wall by the door with an air of practiced casualness. 

“Is your name Adora Grey?” Asked the doctor? Nurse? Adora wasn’t sure but they must be something like that.

“Yes Sir.” 

“And you’re eight years old?” He jotted notes onto a clipboard as he spoke.

“Yes Sir.”

“And have you every been sick, Adora?” He had yet to really look at her.

“I don’t think so Sir.”

He hummed as she spoke, more notes flowing onto the form in front of him. Finally he lifted his head and looked intently at her, seeming to catalogue before writing yet more notes. Finally, he took her wrist, causing her to flinch in shock at the sudden motion.

“No need to fear child, I am simply going to take your pulse and draw a small amount of blood and you will be free to go with Octavia to the cafeteria.” She didn’t like the sound of having her blood taken.

+++++++++++

The cafeteria was littered with children of varying ages and appearances. All of them looked normal. It could have been the lunch hall of any school, anywhere. She scanned the room like any child used to bouncing from school to school, never laying down roots or staying long enough to make friends. She noted the large boys in the corner, the older girls huddled together at a table, the group of assorted kids sitting to the side. She just wanted to make sure that she was safe. Octavia had told her that she could help herself to the food and take a seat, that she would be going to classes this afternoon and that she should meet the others.

She took her sandwich, milk and apple and headed for the group sitting pushed to the side. She could see that they were watching her approach. The girl with braids and the stocky boy looked grim but the thin blond boy between them gave a toothy smile. They all looked to be around her age.

“Hey! I’m Kyle and this is Lonnie and Rogelio. Do you want to sit with us?” The girl to his right let out and squark and elbowed him hard enough to make him wince.

“Kyle!” She hissed out.

“Um, hey guys. I’d love to sit with you. I only got here today.” Gingerly sitting down opposite the trio she unwrapped her cheese sandwich. “I’m Adora.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lonnie appraised this new arrival with her new uniform and her blond hair. She seemed like a suck up. Somebody who would tell on anything you did wrong. On the other hand, Octavia had brought her in which meant that she was special. One of Weaver’s chosen ones, so maybe letting her into their little group could be a good thing. 

“You one of Weaver’s new kids?”  
“I guess so. I got sent here from a group home. I’m here so that they can resolve my problems and I can go and get a real family.” Adora genuinely believed that, Lonnie and her friends could see it written all over her guileless face. “Why’re you here?’

That was how their groups friendship started. Adora fit into the group, filling a spot they hadn’t known had been empty. By the end of lunch they were joking and talking like old friends. Kyle, as ever, remained the but of jokes and even Adora made cheeky jibes at him. He took it all with good humour. With her guide gone, the little blond followed her new found friends to a classroom nestled deep in the building. 

Days went by, and then a week, following the same routine. She grew closer to her friends, and was able to neatly find her way around the parts of the facility that she went to regularly. She saw Dr Weaver only fleetingly, but she was always tender and kind and always offered a warm touch to Adora’s hair or face. It was the most parental affection she had received in a very long time. Octavia would escort her every few days to the doctor who would take more blood and sometimes spit.

It was the night of the sixth day when it happened.

The night in the Zone wasn’t quiet. There was always a hum of vents and air conditioning. The whirring buzz of the fluorescent lights that lined the corridors. Adult feet were always walking along outside, thudding dully at intervals as they kept watch over the children in their care. In the pitch dark of her room Adora was comforted by the noises, they washed over her and made her feel cared for and not forgotten. She snuggled in her nest of blankets and let the night carry her away.

Until the siren screamed.

Suddenly the room was no longer pitch dark but illuminated by a dull red glow as the sirens wailed on and on. The footsteps no longer walked but ran and the gentle hums were covered by the indistinct shouting of many voices. All sounding angry and afraid.

The running feet retreated as Adora huddled herself into the corner of her bed, as far away from the noise and the door as she could. Tears burst from her eyes as she sat scared and confused.

Long minutes passed. Then the door flew open, the harsh light of the outside momentarily blinding Adora until it was rapidly shut out by the slamming of the door. In the dull red light she could see a small figure pressed to the door, panting raggedly and clutching one hand tightly across its chest. The light was so low that she could make out very few features, really it was just a dark silhouette but it was small and sounded hurt.

“Hey, do you want me to help you?” The words startled the invader who whirled around, clearly not expecting anybody to be here. Adora crept closer, able to make out more details now.

The other child was smaller than her, naked and covered in fur. It panted out jagged breaths and held a sharp clawed hand to the gash bleeding at her side. Her mismatched eyes stared at Adora, hard as flint with a touch of madness. Watching. Waiting. 

“I’ll help you,” the creatures large ears flicked as she spoke again. Adora knew that she should be afraid, this must be the reason for the alarms, but she wasn’t. It was so small and looked so afraid. “I’m Adora, what’s your name?” She didn’t expect a response so she was startled when a small voice emerged in the gloom.

“Catra.” That was when the door flew open and a sea of bodies flowed in, snatching up the cowering child who clawed and spat with a ferocity the blond had never seen. She was soon dragged out.

++++++++

Now

Soft light suddenly blazed to life in the doorway, the weak light of a candle revealing the aperture. Startled, the confused young woman pushed herself even further into the corner with near bruising force. There stood the ghost from the roof, wreathed in golden light, face partially shadowed. Forcing herself to take in the figure in the doorway, Adora was surprised that the other person in the room was very obviously waiting and making no attempt to move further than the doorway. Uncurling fractionally, the young woman found her voice.

“How…” In an effort to get her voice under control she paused, desperate to appear as undaunted as possible in front of this menacing presence. Then plaintive and confused, “Catra?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re wondering about The Zone picture the labs from Strangers things mixed with the facility in Akira.


	5. Chapter 5

Blood. The scent hit her as soon as she entered her lair, creeping through the walls and filling every part of her with hunger. Red clouded her vision, the familiar lust to rend and tear filling her senses as she moved further and further into the building. As she traversed the rickety staircase with languid ease, the scent grew stronger and stronger. Maybe the woman had decided to finish the job that she had stopped, it wouldn’t be the first time that somebody’s desire for death was stronger than their will to live. The creature had taken out too many people who had stared her in the eye and bared their throat, done with living.

Clawed hands clutched at the bag full of food, the strangest thought licking at the back of her mind that she didn’t want to be true. She was a monster of dankness and solitude. The deep shadows that surrounded her, the broken pitfalls and chasms of the walls and stairs a playground where she defied death, she was unused to thinking of the lives of others. She was alone. A one of a kind being, as far as she knew there were no others like her, so she relied on nobody. But some small part of her called out to the young woman laying in her nest. It burned in her chest and crawled in her brain.

Making it up to her lair, the blood smell now overwhelming, she stood in the doorway of the pitch darkness and looked at the figure huddled in the far corner of her nest. The girl had her knees drawn up to her chest and blankets bundled to hide her nakedness. The creature could see as well in the dark as the light, better even, and it was easy to see the smear of crimson on one of the jagged pieces of broken flooring around understood how the blood had been spilled. It gave her an unexpected sense of relief, even though she had to clench her jaw against the need to eat.

Maintaining the silence that she was accustomed to, she found a candle and lit it, the sudden burst of light blinding to her but she knew that the girl would need it. She stood in the doorway, seeing the pale haired woman’s face turned to her, eyes huge and luminous as she pushed herself further into the corner, the sepia light barely infusing the room. Still clasping the bag in one hand and the candle in the other, the creature paused in the entryway not wanting to spook the other.

Long moments stretched out, the only sound in the room the popping of the candle and the deep breaths in the corner. As she relaxed the blond straightened a little, obviously attempting to project more confidence than she felt.

“How…” she stumbled over her words in her fear, stopping to take another breath and wetting her lips. It was cute how she thought she could hide her fear. She seemed to look harder into the darkness and a lock of shock overtook the fear on her face, brows scrunching in recognition that the creature did not understand. “Catra?” The word hung between them, uttered with hope; received with puzzlement.

The creature grunted low and threatening, prompting the girl to curl back into herself, and stalked into the room bringing the candle with her. She placed the bag of food onto the bed and brought the small flame to light the oil lamp that she kept in the room. Though she did not need it to see, or cook, she sometimes enjoyed the golden glow it provided. Blowing out the candle and turning the nob on the lantern that would cast a wider glow, she sat on the floor beside the tiny spot of blood and faced the girl. The girl stared back, trembling.

“Food,” its voice grated out rustily, it had already said more this night than in weeks, a clawed and gestured to the bag. When the woman failed to move the furred thing remember something and rummaged in the pocket of the filthy coat that it still wore, pulling out the can opener and placing that on the bed along with fist fulls of cash taken from the register. “For you.”

Adora looked down at the money strewn across the pile of furs and blankets, the paper bag filled with food and the thoughtful addition of the can opener. Maybe it really was Catra? Perhaps she just didn’t recognise the blond girl from the The Zone, she knew that she looked a lot different and it had been a few years since they had known each other. Yes, she was terrified but she didn’t seem to be in danger - if anything this reminded her of their first meetings, fear, mystery and a desire for answers running through her. Certainly her melancholy and hopelessness had been temporarily pushed aside I the face of the nights events.

Cautiously, making sure that the blankets she had bundled herself in were held to her chest, she edged forward on the bed, smiling just a little at the tawny creature that sat still beside her, breathing evenly. 

Under the pretext of reaching for the bag and pulling out the various cans of fruits, vegetables and Spam? Adora took the opportunity to study her companion in the warm light provided by the lantern. If she had any doubt that this was the child she had met so long ago on a night filled with sirens, the large blue and yellow eyes that peered back at her confirmed her suspicions. Granted Catra had certainly changed; she was a lot more furry than the blond remembered, but it was the same familiar brown and now that she had discarded the stained jacket she had worn, her bare arms bore the familiar lighted stripes running their length. Sharp teeth, sharper than she remembered and larger, created dimples in her lip one peeking out. And those ears, when they were small they had seemed so big for her head and so cute, now they were perfectly proportioned to this night thing, surrounded by wild hair and almost constantly in motion. But her eyes contained no sign of recognition for the girl on her bed.

“Thank you,” Adora almost whispered the words, nervousness still thrumming though her, she may recognise this creature but she clearly did not know her. 

“You’re welcome. Not like you can eat what I do,” Adora was taken aback by the coherence of Catra’s words, she’d expected her to speak in broken words like something from a Tarzan movie. “You got a name, jumper?”

“Adora.”

“Adora,” the name came out softly, like the feline was tasting it but still there was no recognition. “Better than jumper I guess.”

Fast losing what little bravado she had, and feeling the adrenaline of the night fading replaced by the exhaustion that seemed cell deep these days, Adora yawned widely flushing with embarrassment as the creature beside her let out a rusty chuckle.

“You should get some rest.” The cat surged to her feet, making the reclining girl flinch. “I’ll be back by morning. Nobody comes in this place. Theres a bathroom over there,” she waved her hand to a dark corner, “keep the lamp lit so you don’t hurt yourself again. Your clothes are there.”

Then she was stalking out, tail swaying behind her, disappearing into the shadows.

She was gone before Adora thought to say another thanks. Too tired to contemplate getting up, almost like Catra leaving had sucked all the energy out of the room, she swept the cans and the sash back into the bag and settled into the sheets. Pulling the blanket over her eyes to cancel out the glow of the lamp she felt strangely safe. She had food, shelter form the still pelting rain she could just hear beating against the walls of the building, and a place to sleep. Sure she was scared and confused, but compared to the morning she was in a better place than she had been in months.

As sleep claimed her she realised that she hadn’t thought to ask the Catra-creature her name.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra eats. Adora gets dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter to establish more about both girls to get us into the meat of the story.

Warmth flowed down her throat, the thick saltiness coating her tongue as she chewed savagely at her prize. It had taken longer than usual tonight to find food. She could have returned to the store, taken some butchered meat from a shelf but the cold, processed corpses of old flesh never satisfied her hunger. Fresh was better. Fresh was a life giving itself over to her to further her own. She lowered her face to take another bite, the body still twitching under her hand and jaw, the memory of electricity fading away with the blood that pooled around them. As her belly filled, the wild haze that always accompanied her hunger passed, if she finished it all she would have a few days before she would need to hunt and the temptation to hurt the girl in her lair would abate.

As her chewing slowed, now more leisurely, the need replaced by want, she let herself think about the girl. She was definitely young, but not a child of that the creature was certain. She looked like she should be strong, sturdy but having felt the scant weight of her in her arms she knew that she was emaciated. As a thing that had to hunt and kill for sustenance, she found it hard to grasp how a normal person, integrated into the world could be hungry. Certainly she saw the wasted bodies of the people who lived on the streets and put things into their veins rather than their mouths, but the girl didn’t seem to be one of those. 

Though, thinking back to the weight of her in her arms, the laxity of her limbs as she’d pulled the worm clothes from her body and placed her in her nest, there had been something odd about the girls scent. More than one thing, now that she thought about it. One had been an unfamiliar chemical scene, close to that of the junkies that sometimes fell prey to her hunger, but different enough to be new. The other had smelt like history, like something she should know, it had certainly drawn her to sniff at the girl, almost caused her to lap at the skin that had been close to her face as she leaned across her on the old mattresses. Only that sharp scent of wrongness had stopped her.

Downing the last of the flesh, gorged to almost latitude, she sat in a dark corner in the alley, sprawled and loose limbed, confident in the camouflage of the night. The rain had briefly abated while she hunted but now came down more harshly than ever, washing away the evidence of blood that had coated her and the alleyway. Other remnants had been casually tossed into a nearby dumpster before she sat, unrecognisable as anything else but the regular scraps.

As she wiped a clawed hand down her jaw, rubbing hard enough to ensure that the gore would be gone before she returned to her unexpected ward, she thought about their last interaction. The girl, Adora, had obviously expected something from her, almost like recognition. That word she had said when she first saw her in the candlelight ‘Catra’? Was that the type of creature she was? None of her prey had ever thrown that word at her, it was usually just screams and begging.

The creature resolved to discover what the girl knew, without scaring her. There was no desire in her to cause fear in the girl she had saved, and she was still unsure why she had done that. 

Knowing that she had to move if she wanted to be back inside her home before the day began to break, stealing the disguise of night from her, she pressed her ears against her head and ran. Moving on all fours, pushing and pulling herself at speed, she was soon skidding to a halt outside the old hotel, sending up a wall of water from the deep puddles that lay over the streets. Something caught her eye before she could squeeze into the narrow aperture.

The bright colours of clothing had drawn her, and she found herself able to stop herself from walking over to the items. The torn bag that Adora had abandoned lay half in the building and the creature pulled it free, stuffing as much of the spilled contents back in as she could. Straightening up from her chore a dull orange something swishing around in the gutter beckoned her and she picked up a plastic bottle, label peeling off in the rain. The contents rattled in her hand and though she did not know what she held, she had a sense that it was important and thrust it among the clothes.

As a weak strand of early morning light pierced through a break in the thick cloud she slipped out of sight.

______________

This time when the creature appeared at the entrance of the room Adora was expecting her. She had slept fitfully and finally given up on getting any more rest almost an hour ago. Between then and now she had managed to find her underwear, which were thankfully dry and slip on a tattered and torn men’s shirt that she had found in a corner among many other shredded pieces of fabric. It wasn’t warm but it did help her to feel less vulnerable; her own outer clothes were still damp enough that it made her shudder to think about slipping into them.

The furred thing stood in the doorway once again, waiting to be noticed in a particularly kind attempt not to scare the human woman. Adora appreciated it and smiled more confidently at her benefactor than she had before. Seeing the smile for the welcome it was it stalked forward and fame to perch on the edge of the bed, closer than she had been since the blond had woken up. It was holding something dark and dripping between its paws.

“Hi,” Adora ventured softly as she would to a wild animal.

“Hey, Adora,” the blond tried not to react to the all too familiar greeting but her pulse stuttered none-the-less. The creature’s eyes narrowed at her unusual reaction but said nothing.

Coughing self consciously, a hand reaching to up to rub at the back of her neck in a gesture that she had failed to break from childhood, her eyes caught the thing now resting on the floor. As she looked more closely she could see that it was the bag that she had torn when she broke in. Her eyes flicked up to meet the eyes of her benefactor. “Thank you.”

“It was on my way.” The words were casually distant but the shaggy head ducked just a little bashfully as if the woman, it was hard to think of her as a thing when she had been so kind, were not used to thanks. From the looks of this place that was obviously true.

Adora shuffled herself to the edge of the bed, only a foot of space separating her from the furred leg of the girl she was certain was her childhood companion and now realised was only wearing shorts and a loose wife-beater, and reached down for the bag. For a moment, as she touched the sodden material, she wondered how the feline was dry, but that wasn’t important. Pulling out each piece of clothing she was glad to see that there was more underwear and at least a few shirts and pants. She got up and carefully moved around the room, putting them on the odd assortment of chairs and boxes to dry, Catra didn’t stop her so she carried on until the bag was empty.

As Adora hung the last of the clothes, the creature reached into the bag and pulled out the bottle of pills that had stayed carefully nestled inside. She held it up to her eyes, unable to make out the words. It made her feel frustrated, just one more thing that she could not do, another reminder that she was a monster sprung fully formed in the world to do nothing more than hurt. Instead of finding out what they were, she shook the almost full bottle, the tinkling of the contents drawing the blondes attention back to the bed.

Adora sagged in relief as she saw that her meds had also been retrieved. As though the sound of them alone had power over her, her skin began to itch and she reached for them, realising that she was overdue a dose. The bottle was casually tossed in her direction and she greedily popped the cap, throwing one into her mouth and swallowing it dry. It she had taken a moment, she would have realised that until she saw them, she had felt fine, but years of routine and self discipline had made taking her twice daily pill as much a part of her life as breathing.

“What are they for? You don’t lo… smell sick,” it was an odd choice of words, and truthfully the creature had to catch herself before saying the girl didn’t look sick, because she looked half starved and exhausted, but her body didn’t smell decayed.

“Um, I have a condition. I take these to keep it under control,” shyly the pill bottle was shaken, a blush rising to dust her pale cheeks.

Unaccountably charmed by the young woman, the creature didn’t push for more. Instead she rose from the bed in one fluid move and stalked towards her. It was impressed when the human didn’t flinch or cower away, though she did tremble at the close proximity.

“You can stay here. If you need to. I will not touch you.” Adora felt the odd eyes boar into her and felt relief wash over her.

“Why are you helping me? Do you remember me?” The face continued to look blankly at her.

“I don’t know you Adora. You seem lost. Might as well be lost together.” The girl who might be Catra, walked back over to throw herself into the nest of blankets and furs. She burrowed her body in their depths, “I sleep mostly in the day. You can do as you please, take care of the holes in the floor. Do not startle me. Leave if you want.” Not waiting for a response the larger disappeared into the cocoon until only a small ball could be seen tucked beside the wall.

Adora was left standing in the room, feeling a warmth in a chest she had missed for over a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catra does eat people - it's not cannibalism if your'e not the same species! (And that's what I'm telling myself).
> 
> We're going back to The Zone next chapter and find out what's going on with Adora and her pills.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the lab, Dr Weaver does what we expect.

11 years ago

Hoarse screams and terrified whimpers filled the stark, white room. Fluffy skin bristled and saliva leaked out of a wide open mouth lined with sharp teeth. Sometimes the sounds would become choked as blood oozed from wounds caused by teeth meeting tongue, fighting against the pain.

Electricity ran in red cascades across the small form that writhed in torment against the padded surface it was strapped too. Muscles bunched, desperate to curl into a ball and become so small that it would disappear, but strong leather straps held it flat across arms, legs and sternum. A loud crack rang out through the room after a particularly intense first of electricity and just like that the screaming stopped.

Silence filled the room for the span of a heartbeat before the double doors at one end burst open and two masked and uniformed men rushed in with a gurney between them. They came to a halt beside the table and waited, unwilling to risk the residue of lightning that still crackled on the fur.

An electronic pop and static filled the room, before a mellow honeyed voice spoke through the loud speaker. “That’s enough for today, Catra. We will continue this tomorrow and maybe you will be able to exercise some more self restraint.” The girl that was being address was unconscious as far as the two orderlies could tell, but their job was not to question Dr Weaver, it was to follow orders. “You may take her to the infirmary.” The voice was dismissive and gone with another pop. 

The faceless, identical men, moved to either side of the the table and began to unbuckle the restraints with the negligent skill of someone who had done this task a thousand times. This was not the first time they had taken this one out of the room, and she was not the first child to receive this treatment. She had lasted the longest, though. All of the leather bonds were in tact and the reason for the crack that they had heard, even through the doors, became clear when the small body was lifted to the gurney and one leg hung bent at the thigh unnaturally. 

One of the masked heads shook in bewilderment, it took a lot of force to break someones femur; let alone your own while tied down. Maybe this tiny body was as dangerous as the doctor said.

________________

Sometimes Adora’s skin felt too tight, as if she were wearing clothes two sizes too small. Her muscles would painfully push on the skin and sweat would bead on her forehead. It was then that she’d disassociate, mind drift and then she’d be somewhere else, no knowledge of how she’d got there or what she had done. It was usually accompanied by the fearful, or more often angry, faces of the people into whose care she had been placed that time. When it happened she was always whisked away. Always told that it was a bad fit; that they couldn’t cope with a little girl with her problems.

Adora wasn’t sure what those problems were, though, she was a good girl. She ate her vegetables, kept her room clean and never, ever complained. From as far back as she could remember she had wanted to make the adults around her proud and happy and failed. Every. Single. Time. It’s what had led her to this facility. The last time had been the worst and now nobody would take her except this place.

So far she hadn’t had an ‘episode’ while she had been in The Zone, and rather than being pleased it seemed like Dr Weaver was becoming more frustrated as weeks passed into months. Over that time Adora had learned what it meant to be one of ‘Weaver’s Kids’. All of the children there were either orphaned, like her, abandoned like Lonnie or had social issues that caused their parents to want them rehabilitated. They all ate and were schooled together but the select group who were ‘Weaver’s Kids’ would be taken away several times a day to meet with various doctors. Sometimes it was to talk, others to be examined or have blood taken and then every few days she would be taken to see Dr Weaver. 

They would sit in her dimly lit office and have tea. She would ask Adora questions, but different to the ones the psychologists did. Adora couldn’t quite explain how the questions differed, she just knew that they did. But each time, as she told the woman that she felt really good and was having a nice time, the eyes behind the mask became more pinched and the tone icier. Maybe they wanted her to have an episode so that they could get a look at what was wrong in order to fix it. Adora hoped that they could fix it. 

The second time that they had met, after she arrived, had been the day after the girl thing had come into her room. The night of the sirens. That day Dr Weaver hadn’t asked many questions, just checked that Adora had not touched the runaway or made any contact with her. She had reassured the little girl that her nocturnal visitor had been another of her ‘special cases’ and that Adora should not be afraid (she hadn’t been, Adora was a brave girl). She said that that particular patient was on some very strong medication that made her confused. Her strange appearance was not discussed and Adora even wondered if she had imagined the fur and ear because of the dark and the flashing lights. It hadn’t taken long for that incident to all but fade from her mind.

Dr Weaver asked a lot of questions about what happened before each episode. It was like she was looking for something, maybe a pattern. Truthfully the little girl couldn’t remember much about those times, before and after became blurry and indistinct, fuzzy like a badly taken photograph. Soft edges around a void. 

On their seventh visit, the doctor brought buttery biscuits and the tea was extra delicious. Adora felt so lucky, she had new friends and nice adults all around her. She might not get to go outside and play, and the place might be a little cold and scary in places, but truthfully she had never felt so at home anywhere else. She perched on her chair, legs dangling, kicking occasionally as she tried not to get crumbs on herself. She could see a little wrapped package on the desk, and for a moment wondered if it were her birthday. It was silly, she was sure her birthday was still months away (although it was hard to keep track of time here) but how she wanted that parcel.

“Adora,” the girl smiled up at her caretaker, blue eyes alight, “could you think back for me to the last time you felt like you weren’t yourself?”

It was the standard way that the doctor would start this conversation. At this point it was familiar and almost comforting. She tried to think back, the last home she had been in had a mummy and daddy and there was even a little girl the same age as Adora. They had been kind and the two girls had hit it off quickly, playing make believe and having tea parties. There had been no reason for her to have an episode, she had felt safe and happy and then, the next thing she knew she had been looking up at the mummy crying, the daddy holding the little girl up to shield her and shouting. So much shouting. 

Recalling it for Dr Weaver was making her feel strangely dizzy today. Where she was perched on the edge of the chair, she started to sway. She was dimly aware of the sound of the doctor getting up from her chair to move around the desk. She thought a hand was on her should, pushing her back into the seat to stop her falling.

Everything felt very far away.

_________________

Blinking up at the concerned eyes of Dr Weaver, Adora realised that she was laying on the floor. Her body felt tight and achy, a familiar and loathed sensation. It had happened. Here.

At least she had been with somebody who was expecting something to happen. She hadn’t been in the cafeteria or a classroom. She wouldn’t have to see all of her friends looking at her with fear or hate. Looking up at the eyes that still hovered over her, she didn’t see either emotion there. All that seemed to be there was concern, and when she noticed that the child was awake, those eyes crinkled in what could only be a smile.

“Welcome back Adora.” She helped the child back onto the chair and a long fingered hand pushed a lock of hair behind her ear before moving to cup her jaw tenderly.

“Di…did you see?” Adora’s voice was tiny, her shoulders hunching as she tried to duck her head. Dr Weaver’s hand remained softly on her face, holding her gaze.

“Yes, I finally saw. You have nothing to be scared of. What happened to you was, certainly unusual and we have a lot of work to do but I think with time we will be able to make you the best Adora you can be.” She stood up from her crouch and moved to lean against her desk, still close to her young charge, “Do you trust me Adora?” The blond head nodded emphatically, nobody had ever stuck with her after they had seen, how could she not trust her saviour.

Dr Weaver moved to pick up the package that still sat on the edge of the desk, turning to hand it to the surprised child.

“You’re a good girl, Adora. Keep working with me and doing as you’re told and soon you won’t have to worry every again.” Adora’s fingers itched to tear off the paper. “Now, take that back to your room and unwrap it. You deserve it.”

Realising that she was being dismissed, Adora shakily got up from the chair stuttering thank yous on her way as she left the office and scampered back to her room.

She lurched through the door and almost threw herself onto her bed, bringing the package to her chest she hugged it through the wrapping. Taking a few happy breaths, she tore through the muted paper to reveal a doll who looked a lot like her. It had blue eyes and blond hair and was dressed in a pretty red dress. Adora hugged it close again and kissed its plastic face.


End file.
